


May Death Never Stop You

by Renegade_Runner



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:21:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21835864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renegade_Runner/pseuds/Renegade_Runner
Summary: As a Killjoy, there's always a target on your back. But your killer is not always who you suspect.
Relationships: Kobra Kid & Party Poison (Danger Days)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	May Death Never Stop You

The summers in the Zones are almost unbearable. Filled to the brim with harsh sunshine, dry air that burned whenever you took a breath, and coarse, gritty sand that somehow ended up everywhere. To be outside, under the harsh glow of the sun, like ants under a magnifying glass, was torture. And yet this is where Party Poison found himself, peeling, sunburnt skin rubbing against the cool leather of his jacket. A jacket stained with the blood of several Draculoids, barrel staring down the remaining two. Party loved the feeling of the ray gun recoiling in his hands, sending ripples down the broken-in leather of his gloves. The last two Draculoids fell, littering the sand with the bleach-white corpses, Better Living Industries logo burning like an unholy brand across the Zones. Dipping his fingers in their blood, Party drew an intricate sketch of the Spider he so fondly created, covering the hideous BLI logo. Admiring his handiwork, Party barely noticed the heavy footsteps behind him, until the Draculoid was almost on top of him. Dispatching it with a chest shot, the Draculoid fell behind a clump of boulders. If Party had hesitated, for even a moment, he would have noticed the unusual clothing, ripped jeans and a grey muscle tank, or the brightly colored ray gun they brandished. Yet, his attention was drawn to the seemingly numberless Draculoid; the familiarity of the cry of pain, and the flash of sandy-blond hair from under the mask. Party hesitated, unsure whether to unmask the familiar faceless killer. As his curiosity and lack of impulse control got the better of him he crouched tensely next to the bloody Draculoid, one hand on the edge of the mask. Ripping it off in one fluid motion, he dropped it suddenly, breath hitching in his throat, veins turned to ice. Begging that his eyes were deceiving him, as he looked down at the grimy, bloodstained face of Kobra Kid.

**********

Party continued staring, unable to move or speak, his thoughts spiraling out of control. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, knees weak, nausea bubbling in the back of his throat. He felt like he was dying, body and mind clashing violently. Then everything froze when a weak, trembling voice exited Kobra's blood-stained lips.

"...P-Party...?.."

Upon hearing his brother's voice, Party's mind sprang into protective brother mode, trying to staunch the blood flow, his hands quickly becoming coated in blood. Party tried to say something, anything, but the words wouldn't come out. Instead, a flood of emotions spilled out, tears flooding down his face, hands shaking as they clutched at Kobra's torn shirt. Kobra's eyes trailed over to the Draculoid mask, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. 

"...I'm..sorry..." Kobra mumbled painfully, a violent, bloody coughing fit following.

"What...?" Party said breathlessly, self-hate welling up inside. He was Kobra's older brother, he was supposed to have all the answers, to know exactly what to say, and yet all he could manage was a selfish word.

"The-the mask." Kobra started, struggling to get the words out. "I...was-wasn't p-pay...paying at-attention..."

"Hey." Party finally managed, voice hoarse. "It's not your fault. It's those City bastards...you're gonna be fine..." Party trailed off, realizing he had to get Kobra back to the diner before he bled out on the sand. Trying to get his jacket off to create a makeshift bandage, while still applying pressure, Party kept mindlessly repeating that everything would be fine, unknowingly lying through his teeth. They both knew Party was an excellent shot, and surviving a chest shot was damn near impossible. 

"K-keep my m-motorbike safe...will y-ya?" Kobra asked, breath spacey. 

"Don't say that!" Party cried, tears mixing with the dark stain of blood slowly spreading across his jacket. "You're gonna be fine...you're gonna be fine!"

".......You may n-not have - have been...the...best brot-brother.....but I-I wou-wouldn't tr-trade you for... for anything......" Kobra trailed off, eyes glazing over, head rolling to one side. 

"Kobra!?" Party cried, panicking. "Kobra, wake up, please! Please, don't-don't...don't die on me!" He was full on sobbing now, clutching desperately at his brother, begging that he would wake up. Party, who had never begged for anything, sat; sobbing, begging, wishing, praying, that his brother would be ok, wouldn't be another victim to the cruel sands. But the sands had chosen their victim, the iron clutches of death unrelenting. Party didn't know how long he stayed in that fateful spot, clutching his dead brother's body. All he knew was that there was pain, tearing at him from the insides. Pain that he could easily let tear him apart. Or that he could inflict upon others, the ones that took his brother away from him. Party stood, slipping his blood-stained jacket over his shoulders. Hell was coming, in the form of a red-haired rebel. Vengeance had never tasted so sweet. 

*********

Party kneeled in front of the Mailbox, shaking fingers gripping the cherry-red fabric of Kobra's jacket. His eyes burned from crying, blood smeared in his fiery-red hair. 

"I'm so sorry, Kobs..." Party whispered, blinking rapidly as his eyes tried to force out non-existent tears. As he lingered in front of the Mailbox, the brightly-colored memorial he'd never thought he'd come to, at least not alone, an overwhelming sense of guilt washed over him. But this was not a simple wave, it was a storm, repeatedly pulling him under, suffocating him, determined to drag him into the dark. It would be easier just to give in, to stick the barrel under his chin, join his brother. But he wasn't giving up yet. They would pay suffer, they would suffer every feeling brewing inside Poison. After he made them pay, he would be free. 

"I won't take long, I promise." Party said shakily, struggling to his feet. "Stay strong, and may death never stop you."


End file.
